Under his clothes

She placed a palm on his chest, the warmth of her hand a reassurance through his t-shirt… she felt bulky muscle, strong, shapely.

She was surprised, gently shocked, she looked at him. He looked thinner, softer than the body she felt hidden from her under his clothes.

She ran her hand over his pecs, reassurance turned to curiosity to feel what lay beneath the fabric.

Fingertips travelled over surprisingly firm muscle, well defined pecs, she ran her fingers along the curved ridge below his pecs, then cruised back up, feeling the bump of his nipples as she slid nails gently over them, curiosity tipping into unashamedly enjoying the feel of him.

She cocked her head at him…

“You have a beautiful chest, I don’t understand why you are shy about taking your shirt off,” she murmured softly.

He responded awkwardly, shifting quietly, eyes downcast.

She took hold of the bottom of this t-shirt, tugged at it. He raised his hands obediently into the air, she smiled.

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